


Our Love Blooms

by queerioes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Flower Language, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Sheith Spring Flower Exchange, flower shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 22:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerioes/pseuds/queerioes
Summary: Sheith Flower Exchange for starryeyedpie.White Clover (think of me)white/purpleForget-Me-Not (true love)blueCorchorus, Jute (impatience of absence)greenCoreopsis Arkansa (love at first sight)yellowDaylily (passion, desire)orangeChrysanthemum (I love you)redWill something blossom between Keith and the neighborhood florist?





	Our Love Blooms

It was the peak of summer in the city, when the heat stagnated in the streets, making everyone and their cousin cranky. All Keith wanted to do was get back into his apartment where there was a fan with his name on it. It had only been a few days in the new place, but the temporary living quarters gave him some reprieve from the outside boiling his guts like a soup. With food tucked away in the bag swinging off of his wrist, Keith came to a halt in front of the entrance. Like one of those cinematic moments where everything slowed down and the protagonist honed in on  _ that thing _ that changed their life forever, Keith had that moment. 

It was a guy who was struggling across the street at the florist shop— built arms holding a bundle of plants so securely, but with a delicate touch, so as not to crush them. He seemed to be having trouble opening the door though, his foot precariously stuck out, while balancing an armful of flowers. Hand pressed to his chest, Keith faintly noticed his heart flip. The man was beautiful, face framed by the colorful flora, petals sticking to his tuft of bangs and cheeks. It seemed more natural than breathing for Keith to waltz over and help him out. 

Grabbing the door, Keith was met with a sparkling smile as the man thanked him and stumbled into the shop. He was stunned momentarily by the affectionate look flung at him, but shaking it off, Keith offered to help carry what he could. Inside, the shop was bathed in warmth like the comfort of a home, the wall behind the register lined with crayon drawings, proudly on display amongst big floral arrangements. Keith wondered if the guy had kids until three boisterous children came running into the shop behind him. Clearly from the neighborhood, they ran to the man who had since donned an apron. He was prepared with crayons and paper, telling them to go draw their favorite flowers for the day. The fluttering feeling in Keith’s chest only grew stronger when the flower shop guy turned on him all happy and charming. 

“Takashi Shirogane, but Shiro is fine.”

“Keith.”

_ A name _ , thought Keith, not sure why it was so important, but it felt like it was. Distracted by the bold purple water, he noticed a jar of colored water sitting by the register, white clovers soaking in it. Shiro, seeing the obvious interest, explained that the kids were conducting an experiment, waiting to see if the white petals would slowly turn purple. The simplistic experiment was charming, reminding Keith much of the man standing in front of him. He could feel more than the summer’s heat rising in his cheeks. 

Decidedly having stayed long enough, Keith turned with a wave and left. 

It was one morning as Keith propped himself in the window for morning coffee and people watching that he saw one studly florist directly across from him, watching back. An interesting coincidence, but it wasn’t all too unusual for a shop owner to live above their business. With a little wave to his morning company, Keith received a wave and amused smile hidden by the rim of a coffee mug. They both watched the street come to life as the hour passed. 

It became habit for Keith to drop by the flower shop, unable to refuse after Shiro told him to stop in anytime he wanted to. Keith thought he could always give the shop a hand, moving heavier pots of flowers or watering whichever plants needed it, but after a few weeks of making excuses to drop in for the plants, he didn’t bother hiding that he was dropping in for Shiro. 

Morning coffee became something they did together in the shop or Shiro’s place, which then included invitations to dinner. At first Shiro did his best to cook, but to spare them the hit or miss meals, Keith took over the cooking. Shiro seemed to enjoy having him in his kitchen anyways. 

It was over time that Keith learned little things about Shiro too, like how he was a nerd for flowers and how the neighborhood kids would come in waves to draw and learn about the plants. Keith thought fondly of Shiro and the jar of now purple clovers. He didn’t know they could do that. Those moments spent together became more and more deeply rooted in their daily lives, which made it harder for Keith to accept that he may not be around past the summer.

Keith had dropped out of school right as summer rolled in, and the apartment he was in was just a temporary solution, a favor from a friend. Even though his plans were to leave by August, it didn’t matter if he changed his mind and  _ wanted  _ to stay. He told himself he couldn’t. Without a solid source of income, he couldn’t afford to live in the city much longer. The thought of his days with Shiro ending burned through Keith’s chest, but hiding it was worse: if he didn’t come clean soon, then he knew that one morning Shiro would wake up as if Keith had never be there. 

He couldn’t help but think of Shiro and the jar of changing clovers sitting in the shop. Keith wasn’t much like clovers though. 

August arrived and Keith had no choice. He had managed to find a job at a farm several hours outside the city, wanting to be close to the plants that reminded him so much of Shiro. That last morning was painful, hands wrapped around the mug and lips drowning under the waves of black coffee. Shiro’s shoulder had bumped his, arm wrapping around Keith. He couldn’t seem to swallow his coffee around the knot in his throat. Finally choking out the words he had been dreading for weeks, Keith told Shiro. 

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

Keith could feel the heaviness in the air around them. Like a wilting stalk, he was unable to stand tall under the weight of his words. He knew the job was waiting for him, that he had no other choice. Telling Shiro how he felt would be too painful, too much for both of them now that they would be separated. Keith ignored that whisper in the back of his mind questioning if he really had to leave. 

Keith didn’t remember what sort of facial expression Shiro was wearing at the time, but his hunched form leaning over the sink was burned to memory. He looked defeated. His long fingers fiddled with a miniature pot on the windowsill, lost to his thoughts. Keith had been drawn to the delicate blue color of the small flowers, all gathered in a bunch, like not one would ever feel as alone as he did in that moment. 

Shiro had picked up the pot from its place, cradling it in his hands as he presented it to Keith. 

Taking the pot from Shiro, Keith held it with great care. Having been recently watered, the little Forget-Me-Nots looked as if they were crying— or rather it was Keith who wished he could then, as Shiro’s hands cradled his. The warmth thawing his frozen resolve to move on from that place, the flowers, and Shiro. The touch moved up over his wrists to his shoulders, gradually pulling Keith into his embrace, and it was like he was home. If he never let go, he could take root like the little blue stars, firmly planted in their pot. 

“Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”

It wasn’t that simple. Shiro had a life, the shop. Keith wasn’t one more houseplant to be added to the collection. He couldn’t ask that of Shiro. If he left that embrace, then would have to leave. 

He let go. 

 

**::**

 

It just wasn’t the same as coffee. Keith sipped at his green jute tea, brewed from the corchorus bushes on the farm. Five weeks had passed on the new job and Keith still didn’t feel settled. His skin was prickly with impatience. Working on the equipment or in the fields, there was a part of him that was on edge, like something important was missing. 

Keith touched his pocket, running his finger along the paper folded and refolded numerous times over the last week— a letter from Shiro. He hadn’t been able to write back, unsure of what to say. Keith was never at a loss for words when they were together, so he couldn’t understand why he felt so tongue-tied when the physical distance was all that was separating them. Shiro’s absence was almost as bitter at the tea they grew. But there was no one to blame other than himself for that. 

Keith had made the decision to leave; he couldn’t be a burden to Shiro. He didn’t have a place there, as much as he wanted to be one of the flowers in Shiro’s shop. He wasn’t. Keith hadn’t even been able to say his feelings aloud. What right did he have now to be sulking or to be ignoring the letter?

It had been a month, but Keith hadn’t come to any real resolution over his feelings. There was no assurance that Shiro would feel the same way towards him, or if those were lies his insecurity was feeding him. Keith thought of every morning spent drinking coffee in Shiro’s home. The way Shiro looked at him in the morning light, standing side by side like that was how they were meant to be. It hurt knowing how far away he was from all of that. 

Keith stood up from the kitchen table, the letter clutched in his hand. How many times had he read it over and still not been able to move on his own? It was his heart screaming for something his head was telling him wasn’t that easy. Determined to bury any other thoughts leaking through in his work, Keith left for the fields. At least around the plants he felt some calm. They reminded him of Shiro. 

It was labor intensive work, but the schedule was flexible. Keith would spend hours in the fields and then lay out in the grass, thinking of what he had left behind. He plodded over from the crops, settling himself down on a green hill.  _ Coreopsis arkansa _ grew all over it. Keith laughed, musing to himself that he could brag to Shiro that he knew just one more genus of a flowering plant. He had learned a lot about classifications and usage of the numerous crops grown on the farm. Keith felt his smile fall, thinking that would be something to mention to Shiro in the letter.  _ Or in person. _

Shiro had once talked about the meanings behind flowers and plants, but it wasn’t a scientific topic, rather more of something he had romanticized in his line of work. He’d told Keith that you send messages with flowers, whether they be condolences, celebration, or feelings of love. Keith’s mind drifted back to the pot of Forget-Me-Nots sitting in his room. Had Shiro just grabbed them off of the window, or was there something more behind the flower’s obvious name?

It was frustrating, suffocating under his inability to figure out what to do or what he wanted. There was the whole lack of a family thing, but was that all there really was to it? Shiro had grown to feel like family to him, and he knew he wanted to see Shiro, to talk to him,  _ be with him _ . He wanted to help run that little flower shop and drink coffee in the mornings. Keith wanted them to talk about their days and just grow together, like two plants in a pot.

Keith flopped backwards, fiddling with a plucked wildflower— a yellow starburst of cheeriness with a center soft enough to lay in. Thinking back to the sun-bathed apartment above the flower shop, there was a moment that stood out in Keith’s memory. It was early enough that the street outside was quiet, as Shiro stood at the kitchen counter. The smell of coffee was strong that day and different when they decided to try out a new blend. Keith had watched Shiro’s back, remembering his muscles shifting with each subtle movement, still sporting a worn tee and pajama pants that hugged him intimately. His hair looked like multiple shades of black with the varying lengths. Keith thought it would be like velvet to touch. He’d soaked it all in— the smell of coffee and sunlight, the sounds of Shiro lazily humming, the way he smiled at Keith when he realized he was being watched. 

Keith ached for those moments. Shiro’s hugs, his smiling eyes,  _ his soft lips.  _ The little flower reminded him so much of—

_ Home. _

Keith sat upright quickly. Lips curling upward, his thoughts shot from the farm and wildflowers to Shiro. Just Shiro. He missed him. Keith’s heart called out to Shiro, wanted to be by his side. Keith had been so stupid. He should’ve told Shiro how he felt,  _ wished _ he had, but maybe it took that loss to understand what it was to lose it. 

Twirling the little flower between his fingers, he wondered aloud, “it’s love, huh.”

 

**::**

 

_ Keith _

_ 3:04pm: I want to see you. _

  
  


Keith wasted no time in texting Shiro from the bus station, once he was back in the city. Already on the move even though there hadn’t been a reply, he knew where to find him. 

Winding through the streets, Keith’s pace picked up the closer he got to his old street. Rounding the last corner, he could see the shop, flowers out, a bright spot in the grey concrete jungle. Keith’s heart was beating in his throat, swallowing it down dryly as he saw the most important thing in his life. 

Standing out in front of the shop, hose in hand as an arch of water sprayed over the flowers, there was Shiro. It felt like years since he had seen him, but Keith knew that was just his heart telling him how sorely he missed Shiro.

Dropping his bag on the ground, Keith called out, “Shiro!”

By the time Shiro looked up Keith had launched himself forward and into the opening arms. Down they both went with the hose shooting water over them both. Keith buried his face in his neck, deeply inhaling the smell of sun, earth, and Shiro.

Splayed out on the ground, Keith rose to his elbows, Shiro’s hands guiding him up, but keeping him close, his eyes shining in disbelief. His confused expression slowly registered who exactly was laying on top of him at that moment, and the warmest “welcome home” smile melted away any leftover tension. Keith felt ease and content swell in his chest, as his mind would no longer stop him from what his heart loved. Keith bowed his head forward, taking Shiro’s lips in his. 

They would have stayed on the ground kissing longer than they already had, if Shiro hadn’t broken it only to suggest going upstairs to his place. It was his voice, low and wrecked with want, that made Keith weak. Nodding in response, as Shiro hurried them off the street. 

Keith was expecting the ever responsible Shiro to pass him a towel, maybe offer him dry clothes and start digging through what had happened with their words. But that’s not what happened. 

As soon as the door was shut behind them, Shiro’s mouth was back on Keith. Parted lips and tongues sought the connection that they feared weakened, severed by distance and a loss of words. As if their physicality would speak for them, neither could stop. Desperate to drive themselves closer, it was a display of the bond strengthened between them. Layers of wet clothing were stripped off piece by piece as they reveled in the sensuality of each other’s presence. 

Keith’s skin was on fire, heat rushing to every extremity as their bodies formed and moved in tandem.This is what he needed first, to speak emotions unspoken but deeply felt. 

Keith had hardly noticed Shiro walking him backwards to the sofa until his back hit the cushions. Lips still hotly pressed together, desperate to feed their mutual desires, Keith shifted awkwardly atop the pillows. He grabbed one from underneath his back and shoved it between them, breaking the kiss to come up for air. 

Keith gasped, hiding his laugh and relief behind the pillows printed with orange day lilies. Red face buried in the vibrant floral design, he steadied himself and regained his composure. Whether it was the pair of hands slowly feeling their way up his thighs or the wetness smeared across his lips, boldness swelled up from within. He felt every syllable of “Takashi” on his lips, breathing his name like a prayer. Keith lowered the pillow and wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck, pulling them together once more. Vulnerably opening himself up to Shiro, like the fallen petals of a lily, he exposed everything he was down to his core. 

They spent the remaining evening tangled together, Keith’s last musings before sleep being that it began to feel like he had taken root in Shiro’s pot. 

Before it was light enough to call morning, Keith nuzzled into Shiro’s chest. He was still on top of him, having fallen asleep against the warm skin. Keith nosed at the softness, pushing his face into Shiro to scrub away vision blurred with sleep. Finally settling his head to the side, Keith listened to Shiro’s heart beating steadily with sleep. In the quiet of the room, the faint thrumming was like a lullaby, but also a reminder that all of this was real. 

As a hand rested on the back of his head, Keith looked up to see Shiro watching him. With a smile, he let himself fall back into place, listening to Shiro’s heart. Long fingers stroked through his tousled hair, almost lulling him back to sleep until something caught his eye on the bedside table. 

Keith reached over, plucking a single picture in between his fingers as he studied it: a photo of him and Shiro holding big armfuls of red chrysanthemums in front of the shop. The rich color of the flowers connected them, a symbol of their bond, holding so much more meaning than Keith had realized at the time. Unconditional love blooming right in front of them, filling their days with unrivaled happiness. Keith had not expected such love to grow between him and this man, nor that he would feel rooted to the spot. 

Fingers brushing over the captured moment, Keith felt Shiro hold him close, cradling Keith in his arms as they both looked at the photo. Laying together, Keith felt it and knew Shiro could too— he was home. 

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I look forward to your comments. ;u;  
> Beta'd by [Carrionflower](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrionflower/pseuds/Carrionflower). 
> 
> You can find my [tumblr (boysblush)](http://boysblush.tumblr.com/) & [twitter (@boysblush)](https://twitter.com/boysblush) via those links.
> 
> Come visit my twitter for more news, updates, and projects!  
> 


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